Let Them be Little Wait, What?
by SLPikachu
Summary: The brothers try and figure out what happened while looking after two little boys. Problem is, they're not supposed to be little boys.
_**Okay, this random, weird idea popped into my head when I watched the scene when Dean made Cas and Crowley sit in the back of Cas' car while he drove, and I had to get it out. Please don't shoot me!**_

Chapter 1

Dean sat at the table, rubbing his hands, up and down his face. A beer sat in front of him, without the cap on, along with his laptop, open to his research. It had been some week. A week neither him nor Sam would have ever expected to have. Monsters, they could deal with. But, this? Nope. This was something different.

Sam tried to spend as much time as he could, in the bunker's library, researching on their problem. So far, nothing.

Just as Dean picked up his beer and was about to take a swig, he heard yelling. More like whining, actually.

"Stop it!" A boy, with short, dark brown hair ran into the room and around the table.

Another boy, chubby around the middle, with a lighter shade of brown hair, was chasing the first boy, holding a children's book, open, like a wild animal's jaw that was going to bite someone. He just laughed as he chased after the first boy.

Dean dropped his head through his hands, hanging it as if he was tired, as the boys ran around the table. Finally, he yelled out, "Both of you better knock it off!"

The boys stopped in their tracks, looking in Dean's direction.

"First off. Crowley. Is that anyway you treat a book?" he demanded of the older boy.

Crowley closed the book, lowering it. "No."

"No, what?" Dean reminded him.

Crowley grumbled at the floor. He wasn't too thrill of his current situation, either.

"Excuse, me, young man?" Dean looked at the boy, sideways, to point his ear in Crowley's direction.

He raised his voice, a little higher. "No, sir."

"That's what I thought," Dean told him, looking straight at him, before turning to look at the younger boy. "Cas, what have I been telling you about the whining?"

"But..."

"If it's tattling, I don't want to hear it. You turned into a five-year-old, not a one-year-old. Stick up for yourself," he turned back to Crowley, "and _you._ Quit antagonizing him, or we will be having ourselves a private chat, again. Do you both understand me?" Dean looked between the boys, waiting for a reply.

Castiel was the first to respond. "Yes, sir."

Crowley turned his head away, to mutter, "Kiss ass."

The younger boy heard it and pointed at him, as he told Dean, "Crowley said a grown up word."

Crowley looked at Castiel, suddenly. "Did not," he argued.

"Did, too. I heard you," Castiel argued back.

Dean rose his voice, again. "Damn it, Cas! What did I just get done telling you?"

"Sorry, Dean." Castiel hung his head, staring at the floor.

Dean sighed. He hated being in this position, especially since this whole kid situation seemed to make Castiel even more fragile than Sam was, at that age. "I want both of you to go to your rooms and play until dinner is ready," he told the boys.

Castiel looked up, worried. "Are we going to be punished?"

"No," he shook his head. "I just want you both in your rooms, for now." Dean eyed the older boy. Crowley could use it, right then and there, but he didn't have the strength to do anything, so Dean let him off with a warning, for now.

The boys headed out of the room, headed for theirs. They passed Sam, coming in. The gentle giant touched each kid's head, gently.

"Everything all right?" Sam asked when the boys were out of earshot.

Dean held his beer, in one hand. Shrugging, he replied, "Crowley was antagonizing Cas, again."

His brother couldn't help smile. "You mean like you antagonized me when we were kids?" he teased him.

"Yeah, and Dad tanned my hide for it." Dean took another swig. "I'm 'bout ready to tan Crowley's." He set his beer back down.

Sam went to grab a beer for himself. "I still can't believe they're kids. No powers. Cas doesn't even have his wings." He turned around to face Dean, twisting the cap off, before tossing it into the trashcan. "What the heck could have done this? And, why?"

"I have no freakin' clue." Dean looked over at Sam. "You couldn't find anything?"

He shrugged. "Nothing. I'll keep looking, though." Sam let out a breath of air, lifting his shoulders for a brief moment. "What about you? Anything online?"

"Nope," Dean shook his head, once. "Zilch, nada."

Things were silent for a few minutes.

"I'll cook dinner, tonight," Sam, eventually, volunteered. He headed for the boys' rooms. "I'm gonna go see what the boys want to eat."

Dean stopped his brother. "Not after what just happened. They can eat whatever you fix. I'm tired of dealing with their crap."

"Dean, it's only been a week," Sam pointed out. "You're acting like we've been raising two human boys, their whole lives."

"One long week."

Sam huffed, at the ceiling. He looked at Dean, giving in. "Fine. I'll heat up that frozen lasagna in the freezer. Should be ready in about an hour." Sam headed back towards the kitchen.

Once dinner was ready, Sam had the boys wash their hands in the bathroom before coming to sit at the table. Crowley came into the room, first, shaking off the water.

"Did you use soap?" Sam asked of the prince of hell.

"Yes," the boy lied, but Castiel came bounding in, his hands already dry.

"No, he didn't," the angel boy ratted him out.

"Crowley, go wash your hands the right way," Sam told him.

Crowley rolled his eyes, as he turned right around. "Snitch," he muttered at Castiel, as he passed him.

It wasn't clear enough for Castiel to hear, right. "Crowley called me a bitch," he tattled, pointing back at Crowley.

Crowley turned right on his heel. "Did not! I said, snitch!"

Dean came into the room, right behind the oldest boy. He planted a firm smack on his round bottom. "Go wash your hands like Sam asked you to," Dean pointed down the hall.

Crowley glared up at the man. "Didn't hurt."

"I can make that happen."

The boy took off, fast, back to the bathroom.

Once Crowley was gone, Dean took a step towards Castiel, who dashed behind Sam's legs. The younger boy hid his face against them.

"Castiel, get your little, feathery ass over here, right now," Dean ordered of him, firmly.

The boy shook his head, his forehead rubbing across Sam's legs.

"One...two..."

Sam encouraged Castiel to do as Dean said, pulling him, gently from behind him. Castiel took tiny steps towards the eldest Winchester. When he was in arm length, Dean grabbed his arm and turned him around, to plant a firm smack on his backside. Castiel let out a loud cry.

Dean knelt to the boy's level, still holding onto his arm. "I told you to stop tattling on Crowley. You are not in charge of him. You are only in charge of you. Let him do it, himself. He's already doing a fine job of it. Do you understand me, Castiel?" If the boys had a full name, Dean would probably be using them.

Castiel sniffed and nodded. "Yes, sir."

With that said and done, Dean pulled the five-year-old in, comforting him. Castiel held onto Dean, like a little kid would hold onto his dad. "Listen, buddy," Dean said, "I'm sorry I'm being hard on you, boys. I don't mean to be. I don't want to be. You two are just driving me, crazy." He let out a small laugh, to help lighten things.

Castiel rubbed at his eye, holding his head on Dean's shoulder. His cries were now sniffles. "I'm sorry, Dean," he hiccuped.

"I know you are, buddy." Dean told the boy to go sit down and eat, standing back up. Crowley returned, which he told the older boy to do the same. Crowley wasn't touchy feely as Castiel was, even as a kid, so Dean knew there wouldn't be a hug there. He did run his hand along Crowley's hair, as a gesture to let him know what Dean had told Castiel. Crowley jerked his head away and sat down, two seats down from Castiel, less forgiving as Castiel had been towards Dean.

Sam gave the boys, their dinner, telling them to eat their salads, as well. Castiel ate his as he was told. Crowley picked at his, only eating the meat and cheese. "Crowley, I don't mind if you don't want to eat the pasta. But, I need you to eat the salad, too."

Crowley questioned, "Why?"

"Because, it's good for you." Sam sat across from the boys, between them.

"I'm a bloody demon," he argued back.

"Not right now, you're not. It seems you are a human child, and human children need to eat their vegetables."

"Piss off." Crowley returned to scooping up the meat sauce, with his fork.

Sam remained firm. "You're not leaving the table until you do."

"Well, guess I'll be sitting here, a while, then," he shrugged.

Dean returned, with two juice boxes in one hand and two beers in the other. He set the juice boxes down, next to, each of the boys' plates. Just as Crowley was about to grab his, to pull off the straw and stick it in, Sam grabbed the juice box. He set it on the far side of his plate.

"That's mine," Crowley protested.

"Not until you eat your salad, then you can have it," Sam told him, calmly, pointing at the boy, with his own fork.

Crowley folded his arms and pouted. "I don't see why I should be treated like a bloody child."

Dean was sticking the straw in Castiel's juice box. "Because, you are," he reminded him.

"I am the king of hell," he protested.

"Right now, you're a seven-year-old boy, acting like he's two," said Sam. "Eat."

Castiel thanked Dean when he set the juice box back down and walked around to his brother's side.

He took a seat, across from the angel boy. "Maybe we should get Jody over here," he suggested to Sam. "Get a mom in here, to help us."

"I'm sure no one will dare act up when she's around," Sam scoffed, with a smirk.

Crowley stared at his food. "I ain't afraid of a woman," he mumbled under his breath.

Castiel made to open his mouth, to tattle, again. That is, until Dean raised his eyebrows at him, giving the boy, a warning look. He, then, stuffed a bite of lasagna into his mouth, instead.

Dean turned to look over at the older boy. "What was that?"

Crowley glared up at the man. "Nothing," he replied.

Sam informed his brother of what he had told Crowley about his salad, which Dean backed up, towards Crowley. He made good on his word when everyone else finished and left to take their plates to the sink, in the kitchen, including Castiel, who used a step stool to reach in and drop his plate in.

Dean told Castiel, to go take a shower and get his pjs on.

Crowley tried to get up, but was caught and told to stay put. The prince of hell sat there, resting his head on his folded arms. All the way through the time it took for the angel boy to shower and get ready for bed, Crowley remained at the table.

Once Castiel was ready for bed, wearing blue, button up pajamas, with an orange trim, he climbed into bed, grabbing his trench coat as if it were his security blanket and the book Crowley had been chasing him around with, earlier.

Dean came into the room. "Hey, ready?"

The angel boy nodded his head, a smile on his face.

He walked across the room and sat down on the bed. Castiel handed Dean, the book. Dean opened it to the first page and started reading while Sam confronted the other one.

Sam sat down, across from Crowley, folding his hands on the table.

"I'm still not eating it," the boy told him, not even lifting his head, or look at Sam.

He shrugged. "Guess you can be grounded, tomorrow."

"Again, not a child."

"And, again, also, yes, you are, Crowley. Until Dean and I figure out what happened to you and Cas, and change you, back, you're stuck like this. Hopefully, we won't have to raise you," he also added. Sam did not want whatever this was, to last over ten years. He didn't want it to last another day and hoped to find a solution, soon. It was weird, taking care of a child version of their friend and a child version of a demon, both powerless.

"Well, hurry up, already, Moose," Crowley ordered of him.

Sam let out a sigh. He stood up, pushing in his chair. "Eat. I mean it," he told the boy, firmer.

By the time Castiel was asleep and the brothers got ready for bed, the prince of hell had fallen asleep at the table. The brothers exchanged a look between them, before Dean walked over to collect his plate, while Sam went around to Crowley's side. Very carefully, as not to wake him, Sam lifted the boy up, in his arms and carried Crowley to his room, laying the boy on his bed. Still being careful, he pulled the covers out from under him and covered Crowley up.

"Night, Crow," Sam whispered when he looked back, standing in the doorway. He, then closed the door, headed for his own room.


End file.
